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FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



MALT13 



BROW 



XOOOHAH TH04V55T/\MT UlHTJAl/ 




MALTBIE DAVENPORT BABCOCK 

F,r,„> a photograph taken in BaMmwv 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



AN APPRECIATION OF 
MALTBIE DAVENPORT BABCOCK 
AS A PASTOR 



BY 

JOHN TIMOTHY STONE 

HIS SUCCESSOR IN 
BROWN MEMORIAL CHURCH, BALTIMORE 



'Others have laboured, and ye 
are entered into their labour." 



CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
NEW YORK 1908 




iwo Oooies Kect*vt& j 

oct 9 J wua J 



Copyright, 1908. by 
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 



Published October, 1908 



3To 



THE LOYAL PEOPLE OF 
BROWN MEMORIAL CHURCH, 
WHOSE LOVE AND FAITHFULNESS 
HAVE CAUSED THOSE WHO HAVE MINISTERED TO THEM 
TO RISE UP AND CALL THEM BLESSED 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



A PASTOR 



'He knows but Jesus Christ, the crucified. 
Ah, little recks the worldling of the worth 
Of such a man as this upon the earth! 
Who gives himself — his all — to make men wise 
In doctrines which his life exemplifies. 
The years pass on, and a great multitude 
Still find in him a character whose light 
Shines round him like a candle in the night; 
And recognize a presence so benign 
That to the godless even it seems divine. 
He bears his people's love within his heart, 
And envies no man, whatsoe'er his part. 
His church's record grows, and grows again, 
With names of saintly women-folks and men, 
And many a worldling, many a wayward youth, 
He counts among the trophies of his truth. 
Oh, happy man ! There is no man like thee, 
Worn out in service of humanity i 
And dead at last, 'mid universal tears, — 
Thy name a fragrance in the speaker's breath, 
And thy divine example life in death." 

By Dr. J. G. Holland, 
From The Learned Professions. 



FOOTSTEPS IN A 
PARISH 



"They ring for service," quoth the fisherman; 
"Our parson preaches in the church to-night. 

. . . He's a rare man, 
Our parson; half a head above us all." 

IN Jean Ingelow's beautiful poem, 
"Brothers and a Sermon/' we 
find a fitting testimony of the 
one whose life as a pastor we are to 
consider : 

I have heard many speak, but this one man — 
So anxious not to go to heaven alone — 
This one man I remember, and his look, 
Till twilight overshadowed him. He ceased, 
And out in darkness with the fisher folk 
We passed and stumbled over mounds of moss, 
And heard, but did not see, the passing beck. 
[3] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



Ah, graceless heart, would that it could regain 
From the dim storehouse of sensations past 
The impress full of tender awe, that night, 
Which fell on me! It was as if the Christ 
Had been drawn down from heaven to track us 
home 

And any of the footsteps following us 
Might have been His. 

Those who knew Maltbie Daven- 
port Babcock as a pastor, a fellow- 
pastor or a friend, during any part 
of the thirteen years he spent in Bal- 
timore, have little need of memory 
sketches of his life and love; for 
somehow his unique personality be- 
came ingrafted into their very lives. 
Years have passed since he left Balti- 
more to take up the pastorate of the 
Brick Church in New York, and 
much that has been said and written 
of him, naturally reflected that brief 
and marvellous pastorate there. 

[4] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



From the very first, my work in Foot- 
Baltimore was intimately associated steps ' 
with the work which he had so re- 
cently laid down. Prompted and 
convinced by him personally, more 
than by any other save the Divine 
Spirit, to take up the work here, I 
have always noted and gratefully 
welcomed his unmistakable foot- 
prints all along the way. Although 
we have well entered upon the ninth 
year since he trod the path before 
us, time and passing multitudes 
have not destroyed his footprints; 
and we are still reminded that "we 
can make our lives sublime." 

All who knew him as a pastor 

have cherished the memory of those 

incidents which related him to them, 

for his was an ideal pastorate. The 

emphasis has well been placed upon 
[5] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

his power in the pulpit, and also upon 
the directness and force of his written 
word. His voice and pen are known, 
but no gift of his exceptional versa- 
tility surpassed his devotion and use- 
fulness as a pastor. With this in view 
I have felt constrained to write, 
prompted not only by deep personal 
regard, but also by a sense of duty. 
Many new faces have come among 
his old parishioners, and there are 
countless children growing up who 
will never know him save as a name, 
unless we who knew and loved keep 
him before them and give them the 
blessing of incidental reminiscences. 
One cannot but believe that many 
ministers as well as students in our 
seminaries, may gain a blessing in the 
consideration of one who was so real 
and vital a force in his day and gen- 

[6] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



eration, and whose life incarnated, 
whose spirit breathed and whose 
face reflected his Master so unmis- 
takably. 

Although his recognized pulpit 
power is not the subject of our 
thought, perhaps, before leaving it 
entirely, a quotation from an article 
in "The Congregationalist," written 
shortly after his New York pastorate 
began, might be given: 

I would that I could reproduce his As a 
very language. He is a master of Preai 
sharp, short Saxon words. Words 
of four syllables are scarce in his 
vocabulary. His sermon was only 
half an hour long, but it was what 
my old professor of homiletics would 
call a march, not a promenade. It 
moved to the one aim of bringing 
men, before they left that house, to 
say, "We will at once confess Christ 
before men." It dealt at close range 
[7] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

with each man's conscience. Though 
he said some severe things, the smile 
that played about his face, and the 
love that looked from his eyes proved 
that he was, as a friend at my side 
remarked, "the apostle of a religion 
of happiness. " 

I have heard some of the most 
noted revival preachers and evan- 
gelists of this century, but I have 
never heard the real gospel of Jesus 
pressed home more tenderly, log- 
ically and powerfully than that morn- 
ing on Fifth Avenue. And I rejoiced 
that in that commanding centre, 
where Sunday after Sunday he 
speaks to the most wealthy and cult- 
ured classes of the metropolis, to 
club men and society women, Dr. 
Babcock is to stand possessing the 
light and terminology of modern 
scholarship, yet telling the "old, old 
story of Jesus and his love" in a 
way that in time must melt the walls 
of indifference. 



We would also quote briefly from 

[8] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

that timely soul-stirring article by 
Mr. Robert E. Speer: — 

"There was at the table reclining 
in Jesus' bosom, one of His disciples 
whom Jesus loved." Mr. Speer 
quotes this verse as the one doubt- 
less called to mind by many in their 
thoughts of Dr. Babcock. He recalls 
their last meeting together. 

We were walking in the country, Natural- 
climbing a hill overlooking the Hud- ness - 
son, and the spring of his step was 



and soul. Suddenly he stopped to 
catch sight of a little bird on a tree, 
and watched it with delight swing to 
and fro on the frailest of twigs, while 
he quoted some lines from one who 
saw the symbol of spiritual freedom 
in the ease and liberty of the bird. 

"Like as a bird, that lighted 
Upon a branch that swings 
Yet sways on, unaffrighted 
Knowing he has his wings." 



onl 




of the spring of his mind 



[9] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



That was his own spirit — jubilant, 
sparkling. I never knew a life that 
seemed here on earth so truly to 
show forth the bright gladness of the 
life of those who stand "all rapture 
through and through, in God's most 
holy sight.' ' 

He continues : 

Vnseif- No one ever touched Dr. Babcock 
ishness. w ^j lou ^ gaining some sense of his 
rich indifference to expenditure of 
himself. There was no incessant re- 
currence of the same notes, no repe- 
tition of phrases and anecdotes. He 
was himself always, but he was 
showing himself always careless of 
the out-go, prodigal with himself. 
He had enough and to spare. . . . 
He was perpetually seeing things in 
new ways and speaking of them so. 
His mind declined to work in trite 
and commonplace forms. In this as 
in many other things he was a real 
genius. There was a tingle and bite 
to his habits of thought and forms 
of speech that would have compelled 

[10] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



attention if they had not captivated 
it willingly. He did not seek to be 
philosophical or abstruse. He did 
seek to be personal and direct, and 
to clutch each man's conscience 
and will and life and soul with the 
jubilant, symphonic truth of God. 
Perpetually flashes of humour bright- 
ened all his talk. He could not have 
prevented them if he had tried. . . . 
He was a personal worker of super- 
lative capacity. He was the very 
prince of pastors, full of the most 
ingenious devices of individual in- 
terest and generous personal love. 
He kept a record of the deaths in his 
congregation, and on the anniversary 
of the sorrow wrote to the one who 
mourned. He had called on every 
family in the Brick Church in New 
York, within the first year. . . . 



Unique as a preacher, we turn to Pastoral 

Calling. 

him as a pastor. Nothing in the 
large round of his regular and irreg- 
ular duties interfered with his devo- 
[ii] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

tion and faithfulness to pastoral visi- 
tation. Directly after his office hour, 
daily, he went into his parish. Few 
men could make as many calls and 
cover so wide an area. His sympa- 
thetic personality attracted to the 
church people from all parts of the 
city, to say nothing of a wide sub- 
urban following. Although regular 
and systematic in visiting definite 
districts, constantly he was com- 
pelled to hasten to far-separated 
points on account of sickness or dis- 
tress. For many years he used a 
bicycle, and it is said that no one 
knew the definition of a straight line 
between two Baltimore points better 
than he, choosing almost instinct- 
ively the pavements which meant 
quickest transportation. 

No doubt some pastors uninten- 
[n] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

tionally exaggerate the number of 
calls they really make, or are so 
swamped by the immense number 
they would like to make, that they 
fail to note the discrepancy between 
the ideal and the actual. Few pas- 
tors can make a large number of 
calls in an afternoon and still call 
satisfactorily. The ordinary pastor 
perhaps averages six or eight, taking 
into account the distances to be 
covered in a large parish. Dr. Bab- 
cock frequently made five or six an 
hour, and often fifteen or twenty in 
an afternoon. He was able to run in 
and out so as to accomplish the ob- 
ject of a pastor as well as if he had 
stayed longer. He had a way of 
running into homes where he knew 
all was well, and saying he simply 
ran in to say "Boo." In other 

[13] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

words the people knew through some 
such by-word that he was thinking 
of them but was too busy to stay 
longer. On one occasion, when asked 
why he could not stay longer, he re- 
plied: "Why, did you think I had 
time to come around here and bring 
my knitting?" He had a way fre- 
quently of asking the servant, when 
he was told that Mrs. So-and-So 
"would be down in a few minutes," 
to tell her he was going to run in next 
door, and would be back in five or 
ten minutes, adding that she would 
understand. When he did sit in the 
parlour and wait, it was always to 
utilize some book or magazine on the 
library table, or one from his pocket. 
His method of controlling the con- 
versation was such that he quickly 
got down to the essential, and often 

[14] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

gave the impression that he had 
stayed much longer than he really 
had. He seemed to anticipate 
thoughtfully just what topics of vital 
interest should be approached and 
encouraged. 

The afternoon's calling was in- 
variably followed by numerous notes 
in the evening. The day's work was 
done day by day, hence the inertia 
and discouragement of accumulated 
details were overcome. Frequently 
a note simply contained a line or two 
with a bit of a poem or quotation 
enclosed which touched the indi- 
vidual case; sometimes merely a 
marginal word, or initials written 
upon the edge of a card. It was the 
y personal touch all the way along, 
day by day, week by week, year in 
and year out. 

[15] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

His tireless, unceasing labour as 
a pastor is almost incomprehensible. 
Although the church numbered 
nearly eight hundred members, and 
almost double that in congrega- 
tional adherents, he worked without 
an assistant, and aimed to call in 
each home during the year, many 
years attaining that aim. 
Students. His work with students was re- 
markable, and although he did not 
by any means call upon all those 
who sat under his ministry, he fol- 
lowed up very carefully the men 
w^hom he did know, and with whom 
he was in touch. Students' rooms 
were often entered in a quiet, natural 
way. He sat down with the boys im- 
mediately, making them feel suffi- 
ciently at home so that pipes were 
not thumbed out, or coats drawn on. 

[16] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

In speaking of his work among 
young men, one already quoted says, 
" He never gave up hope, but once 
on a man's track, so to speak, he 
was never shaken off. He watched 
his man, let him alone, touched him 
again, met him when he was needed, 
and appeared to abandon him, while 
he bore him unceasingly on his heart, 
and was resolved never to let him 
go until brought to Christ. A per- 
fect genius in conversation, flinging 
off sparks as from a blacksmith's 
anvil, he never lost sight of the spir- 
itual end. He was filled with Christ's 
passion for men, and used his un- 
rivalled gifts never for mere social 
ends but always for the diviner use." 

He related the parish to the pulpit 
in many practical ways, and never 
hesitated to suggest from the pulpit 

[17] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

in a frank and simple manner, 
specific opportunities to assist. For 
instance, he occasionally referred to 
the inconvenience a pastor undergoes 
in hunting for people who have 
moved, simply because they fail to 
notify him. He would cite the thought- 
fulness of a woman who would send 
down word when dressing or occu- 
pied, that she could not come down 
at once, and suggested his returning. 
He frequently used a telephone, or 
correspondence, to make appoint- 
ments, where he had failed to gain 
access through the ignorance or care- 
lessness of unreliable servants. 
Always alert to commend, he did 
not hesitate to reprove the church in 
her failings, but always with the 
remedy at hand. Tardy attendance 
at church service, and an unfriendly 

[18] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



spirit toward strangers were reproved 
in the following editorial, which he 
wrote for the Church "Monthly: 5 ' 

The ushers of Brown Memorial Tact. 
are thoughtful men, held in honour 
for their work's sake if not for their 
patience. They earn a salary which 
is never paid, except when the mem- 
bers of the church, by words of sym- 
pathy and recognition, warm their 
hearts. In several ways we can 
lighten their spirits and lengthen 
their lives. Come punctually to 
church. It helps the order of God's 
house. It will give you a short 
preparatory service. To be a little 
ahead of time costs but a little 
thought, and will prove an invest- 
ment from which fine dividends are 
drawn all through life. 

Tell the usher, as you enter church, 
of any vacant seats in your pew. If 
you have sittings and the vestibule is 
crowded, go through the chapel or 
the yard of the Manse, and enter 
the church by one of the west doors, 

[19] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

Strangers should not do this. If you 
find your place taken, remember that 
the usher is but "dust and ashes/' 
like yourself, and that this is a "well 
regulated family." Smile on him 
and say, "It is all right. I will take 
the stranger's chance to-day." So you 
will relieve his fears and find a 
saint's niche in his esteem. The 
service may be blessed to you from 
a new point of view. 

Thought- When the church became over- 
juiness. crQW( j e( j during the latter part of his 

pastorate in Baltimore, he frequently 
placed in the hands of a friend his 
card, asking the usher to give to the 
individual whose name was written 
upon the card a seat. 

He had an arrangement with the 
sexton of the church, whereby nu- 
merous personal notes were an- 
swered through the medium of the 
church service. A drawer of his 

[20] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

desk was permanently designated 
for the faithful sexton. This was 
visited every Sunday morning before 
service, and numerous notes quietly 
placed in the hands of the ushers, 
who gave them to parishioners when 
entering or leaving the church, the 
number of the pew, or location in 
the church, frequently designated on 
the envelope as addressed. 

Although loyal to the standards of 
his church, and believing in her con- 
sistent character, Dr. Babcock was 
not a narrow denominationalist. He 
was not anxious to make Presbyte- 
rians, but Christians, and as readily 
urged people to unite with other 
churches as with his own, when cir- 
cumstances warranted it. To one he 

writes, " Just 'Why are you a Pres- 
[21] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

byterian?' is a question we do not 
ask you. If you are to be a better 
Christian by the grace of God and 
enjoy Him, the object of the Pres- 
byterian Church has been accom- 
plished." 

To one who had received help at 
a church service, but who did not 
feel quite at home, and had written 
to make an appointment, he wrote, 
"You are welcome (pews, or no 
pews) if there is here the help you 
need. You need not give your- 
self any concern about uniting with 
this communion (we are all one in 
Jesus Christ). You need not unless 
you want to. I shall be glad to call 
on you at your home the first chance 
I get. Pay as little attention to dis- 
couragements as possible. Plough 
ahead as a steamer does, rough or 

[22] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



smooth, rain or shine. Carry your 
cargo and make your port, is the 
point. " 

Many teachers, both in our public Teachers. 
and private schools, some of whom 
were not identified with the church 
in membership, looked upon him as 
pastor. Even after his removal to 
New York, he kept in touch with 
many of them. He writes to one, 
"Your note gave me real pleasure. 
I wish you could have blown over 
here with the breeze. Blow into 
New York City some time when we 
are at home, and say at church that 
you are one of my ' old time friends/ 
and sit near the front, and then come 
to 14 East Thirty-seventh, and pick 
a bone with us. I hope the Summer 
will refresh you. To be useful is the 

[23] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



core and crown of life. Be more 
useful than ever. Remember me 
thru the 'teacher coterie.' Ever your 
friend, Domine B." 

Recrea- Although some have said that he 
did not know how to rest, those who 
knew him most intimately realized 
that change of employment was rest 
to one of his temperament. At the 
close of a vacation he writes: "There 
would be no deep colour, or real joy, 
in vacation, if it did not draw out the 
hard work and send us back heartier." 

" He seemed to see the need, physi- 
cal as well as mental, in some who 
were overworked and never failed 
to enlighten them. Let me sug- 
gest apropos of something in your 
note, that nature is a punctilious 
bookkeeper and charges up every 

[24] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

item in our vital account. It may be 
that you have been overdrawing, liv- 
ing beyond your means. Shut off 
the harshest note and put on the 
softest dulciano. I believe in getting 
tired. No one is worth anything to 
the world who does not get tired, 
but a day's work that a night will 
not rest, a year's work that a vaca- 
tion will not rest, is not good work. 
Steady yourself, for you know you 
are of the intense kind. Leisurely 
is not lazily. The heart rests be- 
tween its beats, and I know you 
know the secret of lifting your heart 
to the Lord, and letting it rest with 
Him even in the midst of your cares." 

He rejoiced in personal corre- Corre- 
spondence; questions which touched ence. 
vital points. Probably no minister 

[25] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

ever had a larger "personal corre- 
spondence. Scores of notes were 
often written in a day, and to each 
he gave his best, real self. For ex- 
ample, "You do me good like medi- 
cine, and I thank you heartily. 
Your friend is wrong. No earnest 
heart is hurt by words of apprecia- 
tion." 

He always dealt precisely with the 
problem at hand. To one in diffi- 
culty he wrote: "Obedience is the 
eye of the soul. Communion is the 
opportunity of obedience sooner or 
later rewarded. John 14 : 21, is true, 
unchangeable, — but just when Jesus 
manifests Himself is not said. Obey 
and trust. Ever your friend, M. D. B." 

Brevity. His peculiar gift in brevity and 
exactness should be noted. He had 

[26] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



a remarkable way of putting words 
together, relating thought and eu- 
phony, condensing truth but light- 
ing up dark skies as with an electric 
flash. To a nature-lover he wrote: 

Thank you for your kindest words. 
I think of your friendship with pleas- 
ure and rejoice in your vision and 
your devotion to duty and beauty. 

His pen was his servant as a pas- Note- 
tor as much as his feet in calling, Wntmg ' 
and especially in meeting individual 
problems. To one who had written 
her doubts as to Christian Science, 
he answered with the following letter: 

I can only speak for myself. I 
would not consider Christian Science 
anything short of the Witch of Endor. 
The basis of it on which it certainly 
has helped many people is a truth 
always known and now more and 
more appreciated. . . . The power 

[27] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

of mind over matter! That is hardly 
explored yet, although Magnetism, 
Perkins "Metallic Tractors/' Mes- 
merism, Hypnotism, Telepathy, and 
what not, have dug quite a way into 
the mountain. There is the practical 
human basis of C. S. on the divine 
side. I wish I knew what God 
thinks, but this much is true, that this 
new system which denies the 'person- 
ality of God (and that ends "our 
faith"), the reality of sin and the 
atonement, may call itself Christian, 
but is an infringement on the patent. 
I think C. S. neither Christian nor 
scientific. I could tell you of people 
I have known intimately, who were 
uplifted, exalted, cured and who 
afterwards absolutely collapsed, and 
in several distressing instances, died. 
Their whole system breaks down at 
death. Mrs. Eddy will die when her 
time comes just like the rest of us. 
They are full of words, and are cov- 
ered up in inconsistencies. I would not 
have anything to do with them. I can 
give you all you want to read, if you 

[28] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



care to have me. I am in no way in- 
different to the sufferings in this par- 
ticular case nor to your heart. Can- 
not she claim God's goodness and 
power quite as well under James's 
auspices (James 5 : 15), as under 
Mrs. Eddy's? I send you a small 
book and clippings. 

This little poem which follows is the 
one he enclosed and is a sample of 
a vast number he constantly used, 
always suggestive and to the point. 

Rest in the Lord, my soul; 

Commit to Him thy way. 
What to thy sight seems dark as night, 

To Him is bright as day. 

Rest in the Lord, my soul; 

He planned for thee thy life, 
Brings fruits from rain, brings good 
from pain, 
And peace and joy from strife. 
[29] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



Rest in the Lord, my soul; 

This fretting weakens thee. 
Why not be still? Accept His will; 

Thou shalt His glory see. 

His correspondence reached to all. 
The man who delivered milk at the 
house, the street-car conductor or 
the piano-tuner, were looked upon not 
so much as servants, but as friends. 
To his piano-tuner, he once wrote: 

Enclosed find Two Dollars ($2.00) 
for your last medical services to your 
patient in the parlour. Our quar- 
tette is broken up for the summer, 
and our house is to be cleaned out in 
a week or two. With heartfelt appre- 
ciation for all your kindnesses, and 
with the hope that next winter your 
professional services will be called 
for, I am 

Yours very truly, 

M. D. B. 

He was gifted in helping two 

[30] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



persons at the same time, as the fol- 
lowing letter will show: 

Dear Mr. Blank: 

A poor woman in our church has 
a piano which a blind man used to 
tune for One Dollar. If you can 
afford to do it for that price, call at 
the enclosed address, presenting this 
card. Then, when you are in our 
neighbourhood, cast your friendly eye 
and turn your critical ear upon my 
piano. 

When he went to New York his im- 
mediate duties increased immeasur- 
ably, but no detail of need seemed to 
escape his notice and loving thought. 
He seemed to appreciate George 
Eliot's thought, "I desire no future 
that will break the ties of the past." 
All kinds of personal notes went to 
different people. His same old piano- 
tuner received the following letter: 

[31] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



Before I leave for my work, I wish 
to tell you how much I appreciate 
the perfection of the work you have 
done on my piano (and violin, too), 
and the punctuality and politeness 
that have always characterized you. 
Wherever I am, I hope you will al- 
ways think of me as your sincere 
friend. 

- Every kindness and gift was 

edgments. _ , . . . „ 

promptly and characteristically ac- 
knowledged. A bouquet of wild flow- 
ers brought at once this note: 

Oh, so beautiful and refreshing! 
How near flowers bring your thoughts 
to children, birds, angels and the 
good God! 

In acknowledging a Christmas gift 
from one of the older members of the 
church he wrote: 

Happy, hearty thanks to you, and 
many more New Years, as the loving 

[32] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



Father thinks best, and 100000000000- 
0000000000000000 in the life to come. 

An elder who had brought him a 
brace of partridges from a little 
hunting trip in Virginia, received an 
illustrated card portraying a man 
walking in the mountains, with the 
sun rising, and his gun discharg- 
ing over his head, with the words 
"Many thanks," and the date. 

One of the most characteristic illus- Sym- 
trations of the far reach of his sym- pathy 
pathy and love is related by a mother 
in one of the other large parishes of 
his own denomination. The only 
daughter in the home had suddenly 
been stricken with a disease, slow but 
necessarily fatal, which ultimately 
caused her death. The church of which 
she was a member had been for some 

[33] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

time without a pastor. That Summer 
he spent abroad. When in Edinburgh, 
he remembered a former conversa- 
tion with this girl and thought of her 
in her illness, and without a pastor. 
Recalling this conversation they once 
had together in regard to Edinburgh, 
he wrote a long and beautiful letter, 
explaining how much he knew she 
must miss a pastor at that time. It 
was not as if he had taken time to 
do these things from the duties of 
his own parish, for this was the 
"second mile" in his life, and one 
who so constantly and faithfully 
remembered those of his own mem- 
bership, naturally and spontaneously 
gave his best to others also. 

Young He entered into the life of the 
People. y 0im g Q £ parish by a sympathetic 

[34] 



I 

) 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

understanding and appreciation of all 
their occupations. The reading of the 
young lives was constantly a matter 
of interest to him. To one he writes: 

With the selections of your reading 
in Thackeray, Eliot and Dickens, I 
am in deep sympathy. Why will peo- 
ple drink muddy water, when such 
clear-flowing can be had ? 

A vacation letter in answer to one 
whose love for nature always was 
recognized, says: 

Store up these lovely memories, and 
be faithful, and let all the holiness 
of beauty lure you to the beauty 
of holiness. I pray that seeing God 
in everything may lead you to show- 
ing Him in everything. May Sum- 
mer rest be Winter work for us all. 

All kinds of suggestions he had to 
interest the boys and girls in the 
parish. When visiting the galleries 

[35] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



in Paris, on the trip taken in 1898, 
he wrote: 

One of the pleasantest ways of 
eating your cake and having it too, 
is making an album of famous pict- 
ures. They can be picked up here 
and there in magazines, or bought 
for little money in large quantities. 
Little by little your acquaintance- 
ship grows, and with it your works 
of art and genius. More education 
and cultivation can be gained from 
such a course than coins, stamps, or 
autographs can give. I will be glad 
to hear that any of the boys and girls 
at home will make a beginning, and 
I will aid and abet them all I can. 

His marvellous thoughtfulness was 
seen on his last trip to the Holy Land. 
Just before he was called from earth 
I received the following note from 
him, dated — 

Bethel, first half day out 

of Jerusalem. 

[36] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



I have ordered four hundred cards The 
adorned with flowers of Palestine, Chd 
to be sent to you for the Brown Me- 
morial Sabbath School Scholars, with 
oldtime love and greeting. The 
Brown Memorial travellers are do- 
ing well and adding much to the 
pleasure of the party. This pict- 
ure is of the edge of the Valley Ked- 
ron, looking from Jerusalem toward 
Mount of Olives. Love to you and 
our friends. 

These cards are now framed and 
adorn hundreds of homes in Balti- 
more and elsewhere. 

His love and interest in the chil- 
dren was singularly beautiful. If 
ever a man loved them he did, but 
few took so much time with them. 
His notes to the children are fasci- 
nating. Would that we could exactly 
reproduce many, showing his quick 
and striking use of illustration. Here 

[37] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



is a note to the Junior Department 
in the Sunday School: 

My dear Junior Brothers and 
Sisters: 

Child I hope you will all be true to your 
Letters. p rom i se an d true to your Saviour 
and Master, this year. Attend punct- 
ually the meetings, learn your verses, 
take your part, remembering that 
these are the most important days of 
your life, beginning good habits or 
bad ones. The wax gets hard in the 
shape it was when soft. The dough 
cake bakes in the form of the pan. 
The hot iron gets cold and stiff in 
the mould, and children make or mar 
their lives before they are twelve. 
Try every day to please Jesus, and 
you will grow up to be like Him. 
Ever your friend, 

M. D. Babcock. 

A Easter gift from two little sisters 
prompted the following: 

Thank you for the green egg and 
the pink basket. I appreciate your 

[38] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

thinking of me when you have so 
much to learn, and so many games 
to play, and so many little friends, 
and so many good meals to eat, and 
everything. I hope you will both 
ask yourselves every day, "What 
can I do to make some one happy 
to-day?" This will help to make 
your life like the life of the loving 
Saviour. 

Ever your friend, 

Maltbie D. Babcock. 

Even a valentine from two little sis- 
ters had a unique reply which is repro- 
duced in facsimile opposite page 40. 

His children's sermons, given at cui- 

dv67l/ S 

least twice during the year, were Sermons. 
anticipated and remembered. He 
once said, "Talking to children is 
one of the most delightful tasks in the 
world, but talking to children before 
adults is like David dancing before 
the Lord with Michal looking out of 

[39] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



the window." But he forgot the 
adults, and talked directly to the 
children, and frequently on Chil- 
dren's Day asked them to write for 
him extracts of the sermon. Chil- 
dren never have forgotten his love 
for the word Grow, which he fixed 
in the memory by the acrostic "Go 
Right On Working" The following 
selections from his sermons, as re- 
membered by nine-year old listeners, 
show his power as well as his simple 
impressive style: 

i^od ^hat * s the enc * °f man? It 

ing 0 ' is neither his head nor his feet, but 
the chief end of man is to glorify God 
and enjoy Him forever. What is 
meant by glorifying ? It means to do 
our very best to praise the one who 
has helped us. For example: Some 
one asked a little girl to play a piece 
on the piano, and she said, "Oh, no, 
I could not think of such a thing." 

[40] 



REV. M ALTBI E DAVENPORT BABCOCK, 
BROWN MEMORIAL PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, 
BALTIMORE. 



A reply to a valentine from two sisters 



I 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



She was asked, "How long have you 
been taking lessons?" "For two 
years/' she said. Well, this little girl 
was not glorifying her teacher. An- 
other little girl was asked if she could 
play a piece. She said, "Yes, sir, 
you are very kind to ask me," and 
she played very well, only making a 
few mistakes. She was asked, "How 
long have you been taking lessons?" 
and she replied, "One year." Well, 
that little girl was glorifying her 
teacher. What is man for? Man 
was made to do the best he could to 
glorify God. He was not made to 
kick like a mule, nor bark and snarl 
like a dog, nor to be a dumb figure 
dressed up like those in front of the 
clothing stores. Like a watch, he 
was made for a certain purpose. 
The best thing a watch can do is to 
keep correct time. It is not to be 
used to prop up a broken piano leg, 
or for any other strange use. Every 
one has his share of good to do even 
if he is poor and helpless. 
March 17, 1891. 

[41] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



Once upon a time Jesus was in a 
house with many people. He saw 
a blind man coming. Do you think 
He said, " What can I get this man to 
do for me?" No, Jesus thought, 
"What can I do for this poor blind 
man?" Jesus "went about doing 
good." Acts 10:38. You should 
not go around teasing your little 
brother and sister. You do not want 
this on your tombstone, "This is the 
child who teased everybody." You 
should not always want the largest 
piece of anything. You do not want 
this on your tombstone, "This was 
a greedy child." You should be kind 
to everything. 

Once a gentleman was walking 
along the street, when he saw a dog 
wagging his tail and trying to get in 
a gate. He thought, "What can I 
do for this poor dog ?" He laid down 
his satchel, walked across the street, 
opened the gate and let him in, and 
made the dog feel glad. 

I would rather be a stream of 
water than a pool, for it goes around 

[42] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



doing good. The birds come down 
and drink out of it. It runs through 
the spring-house and keeps the milk 
cool. It dampens the farmer's ground 
and does lots of good. But the pool 
i stands still, just as stingy as can be, 
with nothing but frogs and tadpoles 
in it. 

The door is the entrance to any The 
place. I suppose you have passed Do ° 
through at least six doors to-day; 
the bed-room door, the bath-room 
door, and if every boy and girl had 
their breakfast they passed through 
the dining-room door, front door, 
Sunday School door and church 
door. There are ugly doors which 
you bang! When the boys come 
home from school, they think so 
much about the piece of ginger-bread 
they are going to get, that they leave 
the front door open, and baby 
catches cold. Presently mother calls, 
"Where in the world does that draft 
come from? You, Harry, shut that 
door." Then Mr. Harry gives the 
door a bang. That is the same as 

[43] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



making the door swear. Doors hang 
on a very small thing called a hinge. 
Not long ago, as a minister was 
walking across the fields, he became 
very thirsty, so he stopped at a house 
and asked a pretty little girl for a 
drink of water. "Certainly," she 
said, and she brought him a dipper 
full. Then he asked her if she knew 
who said, "I am the water of life," and 
she said "Jesus." Then he asked her 
if she ever asked for this water of life, 
and she said "No." So he passed on. 
Some years later, when he was on a 
steamboat, a lady came up to him and 
asked him whether he knew her. 
"No," he said, "I do not." "Do you 
not remember some time ago when 
you were crossing the field, and you 
stopped at a house and asked for a 
drink of water?" "Yes," said he, 
"I believe I do." "Well, I am that 
little girl, and I have been a Chris- 
tian ever since." This was a large 
door on a very small hinge. 

The following is from an eight-year- 
old boy: 

[44] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



The Bees. The bees are always The Bees. 
busy. They are not like the flies. 
Flies are lazy. The way bees talk, 
they talk with their two hairs in the 
front of their mouth. Sometimes they 
say, "There is a bug over there. Let 
us go and get it." The next is about 
its body. It is a little round thing with 
several wings on it. Its tongue is as 
long as its body. Now suppose your 
tongue was as long as your body. 
Now, wouldn't it be funny when the 
doctor comes, if he would say, "Put 
out your tongue." The third thing is 
about its legs. When they come out 
of the flowers the powder is all over 
their backs. Then they use their feet 
to brush it all off. Their legs are just 
like brushes. The female bees are 
always busy. They are not like the 
male bees. They are lazy, fly low to 
the ground, and keep up a nasty 
buzz. The females are very useful. 
They go out and get honey and sap. 
The things they live in are called 
hives. Sometimes a snail gets into 
the hive, and the bees sting it to 

[45] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



death, and then fly out and get some 
sap or gum and spread all over it. 
The bees teach us a lesson about not 
being lazy. Whenever father or moth- 
er are sick or tired, ask them if you 
can't go on the errand for them. If 
they are better tell them they better 
go driving and I will stay at home. 

This from a nine-year old : 

My dear Pastor: This is what I 
remember of the sermon. Don't hit 
people younger than yourself. It is 
a bad spirit that makes you do it. 
. . . There are four things, the tem- 
ple, the bad man, the porter, and the 
King. The temple is yourself, the bad 
man is Satan, the Porter is the man 
that lived in the King's house, the 
King is the Lord. The Porter kept 
the King's house very clean and nice, 
but one day the bad man came and 
said to the Porter that he was one of 
his friends; and the Porter said, 
"Are you?" "Yes," was the reply. 
Then the Porter said, "If you are, 
you can come in," and the bad man 

[46] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

came in, and when he did, he took 
a sword out of his breast and said: 
"This house is mine, and you are my 
slave." The Porter was afraid, but the 
bad man was stronger than he. The 
bad man put bad books on the ta- 
bles, and bad pictures on the walls. 
Soon the King came and said to the 
Porter, "Open the door." But the 
bad man shook his fist at him, and 
told him not to open the door. Then 
the Porter heard a sound that said 
that he better had, that it would be 
better for him, so when the bad 
man's back was turned, the Porter 
opened the door, and the King said, 
"Get out of this house." Then the 
King made a good house out of it, 
and you would have thought it an- 
other house. After that, the bad man 
came again and again, but the Por- 
ter would not let him in. 

Dr. Babcock instituted the custom 
of the Church Session giving a Bible 
to each baptized child who had at- 
tained the age of twelve years. This 

[47] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



is what he prepared to be placed in 
each Bible. 

BMe When Jesus was twelve years old 

tion^ ^ e was * a ^ en t° the Temple at Je- 
rusalem, because He was no longer 
a little child, but a youth who would 
soon be a man. We feel to-day that 
when you are twelve years of age you 
are old enough to think earnestly 
about right and wrong, and about 
your rapidly forming character. We 
believe that you are the Lord's. You 
were given to Him in Baptism by 
your parents, and were thus recog- 
nized as a child-member of Christ's 
Church. As such a member, you have 
received from us a Bible. It tells of 
God's love to you (Jer. 31 : 3, Mark 
10 : 14, Romans 5 : 8, 1 John 4 : 7- 
11). If God loves you and has given 
Jesus to be your Saviour and Friend, 
will you not of your own accord give 
yourself to Him? (Romans 12:1, 
2 Cor. 5 :14, 15). He will accept you 
(Matt. 11 : 28-30, John 6 :37). He 
asks you to trust Him and to try to 

[48] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



please Him. He asks you to obey 
Him, and says that He will accept 
your obedience for love (Matt. 7 : 
24, 25, John 14 : 21-23, 1 John 2 : 
5). You are not saved because you 
try to be good, but you try to be 
good because you are saved. A 
Christian life is living your thanks 
to God for His love to you (1 John 
4 : 19). Because Jesus died for you, 
you try to live for Him. 

When you know you have given 
yourself to Him, and are going to do 
your best to obey and serve Him, 
confess Him as your Saviour and come 
to His table (Matt. 10 : 32-33. 

Read your Bible every day to know 
more about God's love and your duty 
(2 Timothy 3:15). Be obliging, 
obedient, pure, trustful, unselfish, 
forgiving, industrious, persevering, 
punctual. Do not read anything your 
conscience disapproves. Do not criti- 
cise unless it is your duty. Live the 
Golden Rule, the life of Love (Matt. 
7 : 12, Acts 20 : 35, John 13 : 34) . 

If you are in doubt about anything, 

[49] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



think what Jesus would do (1 John 
2:6), and pray to your Father in 
Heaven to show you what is right 
and to help you to do it. Try to live 
so that Jesus will be pleased ; so that 
you will make your home, your 
school, your church, your work, your 
play better and not worse on your 
account ; so that People will learn 
about Jesus and the Christian life 
through you (Matt. 5 : 16) ; so that at 
last you may hear the words, "Well 
done, good and faithful servant. " 
(Matt. 25 : 21.) 

This was signed by the Pastor and 
Clerk of the Session. 

"Doit The following incident taken from 
(His Life a recent sermon at Brown Memorial 
Motto.) Church? upon « Xhe Sunday School," 

I use as personal testimony of Dr. 
Babcock's value of work among the 
children : 



There are numbers of children who 

[50] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

are not regularly in any Sunday 
School. The most effective way to 
reach these families is through the 
children. Some fifteen years ago, 
Dr. Babcock was walking down a 
street in Baltimore within half a 
mile of our church, and saw a little 
girl fall on the sidewalk. He helped 
her to her feet, and as she looked up 
at him in surprise and gratitude, he 
asked her whether she went to Sun- 
day School. Receiving a negative re- 
ply, he called soon at her house, and 
invited the child and her mother to 
come to church and Sunday School. 
They came, and became regular 
attendants. Within a month or two, 
a little cousin in a neighbouring street 
came with them, and another family 
was reached. Not to go into details, 
to my knowledge, six persons have 
united with this church as the direct 
result of following up that brief con- 
versation with the little child who 
had stumbled. And better still, a half 
dozen families have through this in- 
cident, taken their natural place in 

[51] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



the church through the Sunday 
School. Is not this a picture of our 
principle ? Is not the church of Christ 
His divinely appointed institution to 
lead us nearer to Him and to asso- 
ciate us more nearly in His serv- 
ice ? Is not the Church of Christ the 
6 'Meeting House' 5 of the homes and 
the community, and not only the 
place where individuals may meet 
and worship God, but a place where 
the family altar may receive a deep 
inspiration in the common worship 
with other firesides? Through the 
child in the Sunday School, the 
homes without God should find the 
church, and the church should find 
them. 

The City. His pastoral work touched the en- 
tire city. All in need seemed to seek 
him. His warm heart and practical 
human interest made him a magnet 
for those out of employment and con- 
sequently in distress! Old residents 
in the city, and those who are com- 

[52] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

petent to judge, claim this to be true 
to a greater degree than with any one 
who has ever resided in Baltimore, 
and there was a cause for this. His 
unfailing sympathetic reply was usu- 
ally followed by the securing of a situ- 
ation for the person in need. After a 
time this caused much comment, 
and frequently astonishment. "At 
this time," writes one who was in 
close touch with the factories, foun- 
dries, mills, etc., and who knew of 
many changes among employes, "if 
Dr. Babcock was especially inter- 
ested in a man or woman, I do not 
recall a single instance in which em- 
ployment was not there. If I antici- 
pated great trouble, a letter from him 
to a member of the firm (whether 
known by him or not) seemed to act 
like magic. I have known firms hav- 

[53] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

ing no vacancy to take on an extra 
man more than once on account of a 
letter from him. His magnetism ex- 
tended to Jew and Romanist alike. 
Influential men among both, when 
asked to enlist in the cause of secur- 
ing employment for some unfortunate 
one, would confer and generally land 
the man safely. So far had the knowl- 
edge of this spread, that finally cer- 
tain persons comfortably situated in 
desirable positions, wrote endeav- 
ouring to better their conditions, 
but the talisman was not used for 
such cases." Almost more than hu- 
man insight seemed to detect the 
motive which was not genuine and 
worthy. 

Students Students always sought him, and 
Agam. were S0U gi 1 ^ ou i by hi m? that he might 

[54] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

meet their need. At his death, a 
former Johns Hopkins student wrote 
of him as "a personal loss to hun- 
dreds of former students scattered 
all over the world." He refers to him 
as a favourite with the young men of 
the university, who were helped and 
encouraged by his pure life and heart- 
to-heart preaching. He was espe- 
cially kind and helpful to those strug- 
gling with poverty and assisted many, 
regardless of church affiliations, to 
obtain the employment necessary to 
finish their course. He singled out 
those who were obliged to spend 
Thanksgiving and Christmas vaca- 
tions in Baltimore, and invited 
them to his cheerful home, and 
they really felt they were among 
friends who had deep interest in 
their welfare. 

[55] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



At the The influence over college men, as 
Colleges. ^ me ^. them, was just as strong as his 

influence in the pulpit. "The Har- 
vard University Forum/ 5 of Janu- 
ary 25, 1898, contains an article 
which shows the impression he made 
there. 



Harvard. On Saturday morning appeared 
this notice in the "Crimson": "Rev- 
erend M. D. Babcock, of Baltimore, 
will conduct service at Appleton 
Chapel to-morrow evening. He is re- 
garded as one of the most conspic- 
uous young preachers of the Pres- 
byterian Church in the East, and has 
been called to several of the largest 
pastorates. This will be his first visit 
to Harvard." 

Knowing that Dr. Babcock is a 
Syracuse graduate, and that he deliv- 
ered the Alumni oration in Crouse 
Hall in 1895, I went down to Apple- 
ton to hear him. 

Before the hymn was finished read- 

[56] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



ing, the speaker had produced a 
favourable impression on the audi- 
ence. Standing in the high Puritan 
pulpit, overlooking a church of pil- 
lars, galleries and high-backed seats 
full of Harvard men, he looked, in 
his robes, not unlike a clergyman of 
the Church of England. No fire, 
however, was lacking in voice or 
manner. He went straight to his sub- 
ject. Every man is an individual 
with a work. Not "learning for 
learning's sake," not "truth for 
truth's sake," but self-culture for self- 
consecration ; self-mastery for service ! 
Clear, modulated voice, pungent ar- 
gument, and strenuous earnestness, 
relieved at times by a light touch 
of humour, waked up that audience 
as Harvard audiences seldom are 
awakened. 

After his sermon was over, and as 
the great organ was playing the 
postlude, I heard a man say to his 
neighbour, "I've been studying 'for 
learning's sake,' but I believe he's 
right!" The next day I saw several 

[57] ' 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



that believed "he's right," and the 
whole college has been talking of 
him ever since. 

HisPho- During those years which imme- 
tograph. jj^jy followed his annual visit, the 
students' rooms throughout the 
schools and colleges where he 
preached had his photograph in 
evidence. This was especially true 
in room after room among the boys 
in the fifth and sixth forms at the 
Hill School, for here particularly he 
seemed to have a hold upon their 
hearts, and frequently when I have 
been calling on the boys in their 
rooms, a happy lad would say, as I 
stopped before the photograph, "He 
gave that to me himself." 
The mil In speaking of the Hill School, 
memory goes back to the occasion of 
my first visit there during the Winter 

[58] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

of nineteen hundred and one or two. 
Many demands for outside work 
came to me those first years in Balti- 
more, especially from the schools 
and colleges, and it was wise to de- 
cline most invitations. But when the 
invitation came from the Hill School, 
I recalled a single remark he made 
on the night of my installation. His 
part was the charge to the pastor, 
but just before we entered the 
church, in his happy pleasantry of 
impulsive suggestion, he said, ''Do 
not say 'Yes' to all the invitations 
you get, but if they ask you to go up 
to preach to the boys at the Hill 
School, you go" This made a dent 
in my memory, because much of his 
charge was devoted to the counsel of 
refusing outside and additional work. 
The first time I visited the Hill 

[59] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

School will ever be fresh in my mem- 
ory. They were in the old chapel then, 
or the long general class room used as 
a chapel. His favourite hymns were 
used. I did not feel like an inter- 
loper but as if his very presence 
gave inspiration and personality to 
the message. The warm welcome 
from all immediately touched a re- 
sponsive chord, which vibrated, and 
has vibrated as the years have gone 
by. Those manly boys in the upper 
forms all remembered him on that 
January day, and during the service 
I referred to the personal wish he 
had expressed as to them, if the in- 
vitation came to preach. Every fel- 
low seemed linked to him through 
his affectionate, winsome personality, 
and many a hand-shake which was 
mine that day, I recognized as alive 

[60] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

with the ambition and spirit he had 
created. 

Somewhat similar was the re- student 

, Confer- 

sponse everywhere with students, ences. 
The Summer previous, at Asheville, 
at the Southern Student Conference, 
one of the manly young leaders in 
the work of a Southern university 
greeted me with the remark that he 
had found Christ one Sunday morn- 
ing when visiting his brother, then a 
student at Johns Hopkins Univer- 
sity, with whom he attended church 
at Brown Memorial. 

On entering the chapel when 
preaching at Princeton, the Fall of 
that same year of nineteen hundred 
and two, the old care-taker, upon 
hearing that I came from Baltimore, 
remarked, "We had a man from 
Baltimore here three years ago, who 

[61] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



kept the boys awake. In fact they 
did not seem to want to have him 
stop preaching." (Any man who 
knows college students, realizes the 
force of this compliment.) One may 
well imagine the preacher's feeling 
of helplessness with such an intro- 
duction, but the day was unique in 
that it was the first Sunday of Presi- 
dent Wilson in his executive capac- 
ity, and perhaps the novelty of things 
in general alleviated distress. 
Searching The following information comes 

Men Out. , _ • « 

to me as personal testimony irom 
one now a successful physician in our 
city, but formerly a missionary under 
our Foreign Board, whose return was 
occasioned by ill health in his family: 

In 1893, my plans for earning my 
college expenses having fallen 
through, I found myself facing the 

[«] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



situation of paying for room, food 
and college fees with twenty dollars 
in my pocket. My chum, like my- 
self, a medical student preparing for 
the Foreign Field, was in the same 
case. We chose Baltimore as a place 
where living expenses are cheaper 
than in New York, paid the college 
fees, rented a room and hunted up 
the cheapest places to buy food. We 
found that it would be possible after 
paying fifty cents a week apiece for 
room rent, to live on one dollar's 
worth of food, and started in on this 
basis; but even so, our funds soon 
ran short and the problem of earn- 
ing a few dollars became a vital one. 
One day as I was walking back from 
college, I remembered how pressing 
this need had become. As I neared 
iny lodging (a little upper-story back 
room on Broadway), I noticed a bi- 
cycle at the door of the house, but 
paid no attention to it, and wended 
my way upstairs, trying as I passed 
the family downstairs to be as cheer- 
ful as usual. 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



Individ- In my room, an angel in disguise 
Weeds was awa fting me, for there sat a man 
whom my room-mate introduced as 
Dr. Maltbie Babcock, pastor of 
Brown Memorial Church. With- 
out further ceremony, he said to me, 
"Do you know me? Did you ever 
hear me speak on the subject 6 Over- 
coming Difficulties' ? Have you ever 
been to the Y. M. C. A. ? and did 
you write a letter to me, and not sign 
your name, as being a young man 
who had overcome difficulties?" 

As soon as I could catch my 
breath, after this business-like be- 
ginning, I replied, "Yes, I have 
heard of you, and have heard you 
speak; but as to writing the letter, 
I cannot say, for I often write letters 
and forget them as soon as they are 
written." So he went on to describe 
the letter which said in substance, 
"I have heard you speak this after- 
noon on the subject of ' Overcom- 
ing Difficulties/ and wondered 
whether I could not tell you some- 
thing about overcoming difficulties in 

[64] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



the way of getting an education. I 
have been living in a garret, and my 
food and rent have only cost me one 
dollar and a half a week," etc., etc. 

"Well," I said, "Dr. Babcock, 
that suits my case, and the writing 
looks like mine, but I do not remem- 
ber doing it." 

Then he said, "Do you know 
Reverend C. H. Daniels, of Bos- 
ton?" I said "Yes." "Well, he sent 
me to you, and do you know how ?" 
I could not imagine, so he said, 
"Well, it was this way. When I re- 
ceived your anonymous letter, I put 
it away with the sermon, "Over- 
coming Difficulties/ and when I 
preached that sermon at Dr. Dan- 
iels's church in Boston in the Spring, 
I related this little incident, and said, 
' I have often wished that I could find 
those boys who are striving so hard 
to get an education.' After service, 
Dr. Daniels said to me, ' Dr. Bab- 
cock, I can tell you who one of those 
young men is, for he has written to 
me telling me of his work in Balti- 

[«] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



more where he is preparing to go as 
a medical missionary.' When I re- 
turned home this letter was awaiting 
me, the name and 215 N. Broadway 
given, asking me to please go to see 
you and find out how you are get- 
ting along. So here I am, ready to 
do anything I can to help you; and 
you know there are many people in 
my congregation who stand ready to 
give me anything I need to help 
those who help themselves. So don't 
you hesitate to call upon me at any 
time. Good-bye, 55 and he was gone. 
But let me say that the next mail 
brought a check for five dollars, 
which was the first of several re- 
ceived that Winter. Not only this, 
he did not forget to see that we had 
a good Christmas dinner and often 
gave us an order for groceries at the 
best store in town. 

All through the following Winter, 
Dr. Babcock still watched over us, 
and when my room-mate fell ill with 
typhoid fever, he stood by us in all 
our difficulties. After my gradua- 
te 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



tion and hospital service was over, 
when I was ready to sail for Africa 
and was married, we both joined 
Brown Memorial Church, and his 
helpful letters to me on the field were 
always of good cheer. 

A dear friend has just written me 
a letter regarding him, which adds 
to our thought. She writes: 

He opened every window of his 
soul toward Him who is love, Who 
"went about doing good/ 5 then 
turned his glad face to every creature 
that crossed his path, and light and 
warmth radiated from him to them. 
The little children that he met always 
received his cheery smile. Yes, it 
once pleased him that a common 
little English sparrow continued to 
drink when he had passed close to it. 

He knew the value of trifles. It is Trifles, 
out of littleness that greatness ger- 
minates. He realized that words 
and acts are seeds. Only God can 
estimate the harvest. This kept him 

[67] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



alert for opportunities. Once no- 
ticing on the train a bright, intelligent 
boy who was plying his mother and 
sister with questions until their pa- 
tience was exhausted, he beckoned 
to the boy and showed him a new 
watch with a peculiar mechanism 
which he explained to the delighted 
child. Suddenly the boy exclaimed, 
"I know you, sir, you preached in 
our church in Washington one Sun- 
day on 'Luck.' I liked that sermon, s 
but people are lucky sometimes, 
aren't they?" In the sermon to 
which the boy referred occurred the 
true definition of the accidental, 
"Luck is law unrecognized. Chance 
is purpose in disguise." I do not 
doubt that the sermon that followed 
addressed to the one little listener in 
reply to his eager question was as 
full of thought as the memorable 
one to the great congregation. 
Human He knew human nature. He stud- 
Nature. * e( j ^ ' n lives of his own congre- 
gation and the people that daily 
crossed his path, and the material 

[68] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



thus gained was woven into his ser- 
mons. In his prayers more powerful 
than his sermons, his people felt that 
he was indeed their priest bringing 
their individual needs to the "Great 
High Priest." 

He knew the Word of God, the The 
revelation of the Divine nature and Wor 
the key which unlocks the mystery 
of the other two volumes and con- 
verts knowledge into life. 

In a sermon on "The Bible" he 
once said: 

The Bible holds its influence over 
men, not because it is thousands of 
years old, but because it is a present 
answer to present needs. This Book 
- will keep you from sin or sin will 
keep you from this Book. 

The following illustration he also 
used at the time: 

Some years ago, two gentlemen 
were riding together, and as they 
were about to separate, one ad- 

[69] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



dressed the other thus: "Do you ever 
read your Bible?" "Yes, but I get 
no benefit from it, because, to tell the 
truth, I feel I do not love God." 
"Neither did I," replied the other, 
"but God loved me." This answer 
produced such an effect upon his 
friend, that to use his own words, it 
was as if one had lifted him off the 
saddle into the skies, so great was 
the truth it opened up to his soul. 

Ministe- He never defined the limit of his 

rial Cour- . , . , , „ . 

tesy. parish with any degree 01 strictness. 
Every courtesy and thoughtful atten- 
tion was extended to the interests of 
other pastors and churches. When- 
ever he crossed the line of another 
pastor, he quickly stepped aside to let 
the other have his full place. As a 
neighbour, he never hesitated to enter 
a home where there was need, no 
matter what the church relation. One 
night on coming home to the manse 

[70] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

quite late, he saw a light burning in 
an unaccustomed place in the home of 
an invalid. Following his impulse he 
was quickly on the steps, and after 
ringing the bell quietly, inquired if 
there was anything he could do to 
help. It was just the moment when 
a friend was needed, and his thought- 
fulness has never been forgotten, not 
only by the family benefited, but by 
the entire neighbourhood. It is only 
another illustration of that wonder- 
ful truth, often forgotten, that im- 
pulse prompted by loving thought 
seldom goes astray. 

The footprints would not lead us far Confi- 

d,BTbCB 

enough if we did not follow them a Men. 
little farther into the personal realm. 
Peculiarly he seemed to possess the 
gift of discriminating insight as to 

[71] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

character, and was able to distinguish 
between the man with honest pur- 
pose and will and the one who 
feigned sincerity. We would not so ex- 
aggerate as to claim that errors of 
judgment were never made, but re- 
peated incidents show that the per- 
centage of such mistaken confidence 
with him was almost at the minimum. 

One morning, a close friend and 
prominent banker, responded to his 
call over the 'phone, and was requested 
to let a certain man, who was on his 
way down to the bank, have one hun- 
dred dollars on his account. Dr. Bab- 
cock added, " I will be down in a few 
hours and fix it up with you." The 
banker replied, suggesting that per- 
haps he did not know that this 
particular man was a worthless 
and well-known dead beat. He also 
[»■] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

volunteered that the man would 
be glad to get fifty cents, to say 
nothing about a hundred dollars. 
The reply came, "Well, I believe he 
has started on a different track. I am 
sure he can be trusted. You let him 
have the one hundred dollars, and 
take his note for it." In recounting 
the incident later, the banker ad- 
mitted that he had never let an equal 
sum go out of his hands more re- 
luctantly. He followed implicitly Dr. 
Babcock's directions, taking the note, 
and, of course, failed to hear from 
the man. Some two or three years 
later, a gentleman walked into his 
private office, well-dressed, alert and 
straightforward. "You do not know 
me," he said. Upon gaining a nega- 
tive reply, he added, "You do not 
seem to remember letting me have 

[73] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

one hundred dollars some years ago 
at Dr. Babcock's request. I think you 
have my note for the same. I have 
come in to pay that note with full 
interest to date." He then stated he 
had gone directly to his home, had 
begun life anew, and had been suc- 
cessful and happy. He added, " No- 
bod v believed in me in Baltimore 
outside of Dr. Babcock, and he was 
the first man who gave me any faith 
in myself." 

Conver- He had a way of controlling the 
conversation in lines related to the 
special interests of the home or indi- 
vidual. The subject nearest to heart- 
need was delicately introduced, con- 
fidence being established at once. 
The approach to the inner life was 
never suggested unless he saw the 

[74] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

door open, yet with perfect frank- 
ness he made his errand known, and 
sometimes even ran the risk of open- 
ing a troubling question when he 
was assured that there was uneasi- 
ness and anxiety. 

A mother's heart was being broken 
by a dissolute son. Night after night 
the neighbours knew the old story, 
as carriage or friend would bring him 
home intoxicated. He knew that 
mother's heart, and also her delicate 
sensitiveness, so unwilling to realize 
that others knew. Upon shaking 
hands with her as he left, he quietly 
said, "Remember me to your son 
and ask him to stop after the ser- 
vice some Sunday evening; I have a 
favour he can do for me." That man 
became interested, and in time was 
reclaimed. 

[75] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



Infor- Before or after the Summer season, 
when spending a tew weeks in town 
alone, he had the habit of calling up 
certain homes by 'phone, and telling 
them he would be around for lunch, 
or dinner. In some cases, he did not 
hesitate to run in without the slight- 
est invitation to breakfast. At onetime, 
feeling he did not know a gentleman 
in the parish quite as well as he de- 
sired, and knowing his genial nature 
and kindly spirit, he told him he was 
coming in some morning for break- 
fast. After a quick run on his wheel 
in the park, he stopped at the house 
one morning, and asked the butler if 
Mr. So-and-So was at home. He then 
asked him to show him to the guest's 
bath room, and after taking a bath, 
came down to breakfast to greet the 
family. His happy host in recounting 

[76] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

the incident later, said that nothing 
he ever did so touched him in the dis- 
play of his confidence and friendship. 

It is said, "To know Dr. Babcock Sorrow. 
well, to realize what a friend he could 
be — one must have trouble." A close 
friend in the parish writes: "I had 
the misfortune during the two years 
he was my pastor to be both healthy 
and happy, yet it was in one of life's 
dark hours that I first went to Brown 
Memorial and it was there that the 
help came. He*did more to educate 
me in those two short years than all 
the schools I had attended. My let- 
ters are rather personal, but there are 
some beautiful thoughts in them, and 
I shall be glad to leave them with 
you for you and Dr. Babcock are 
now inseparably associated. One of 

[77] 



j 

FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

the great secrets of his success lay m 
the fact that like his Master, he ad- 
dressed the potentiality, not the act- 
uality, in his hearers. 'Take up thy 
bed and walk.' ' Thou art Peter/ " 
We can never help any one in whom 
we do not believe. Dr. Babcock made 
each man feel that he had faith in 
him because there is no limit to the 
possibility that even the weakest can 
attain in Christ. Quoting from one of 
his sermons, he alludes to the unnec- 
essary anxiety of many: 

For every trial God sends, He gives 
sufficient grace for its endurance; 
but He promises no grace with which 
to bear anticipations, and we little 
know how very large a portion of our 
mental sufferings arises from antici- 
pation of trial. 

At the His gift in times of sorrow may be 

seen in this incident. A young woman 
[78] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

had lost one of her parents. It was her 
first great sorrow. Life was dark, 
every day cloudy. Her piano had not 
been touched, and before it had been 
her greatest joy, almost a passion, for 
she played beautifully. He had not 
been able to see her when he called 
before ! Her friends seemed to have no 
way of cheering her. As the servant 
took his card, he said: "I do not 
think she will see you," but at his 
word went upstairs. Almost imme- 
diately there came into her room 
above the distant but certain strains 
of her favourite sonata. The soft pedal 
could not smother the personality of 
the marvellous touch she knew so 
well. Before the card had reached 
the third story, she with blinded eyes 
was hastening down. The spell was 
broken. After ten minutes between 

[79] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

pastor and motherless child, the sun- 
light had riven the cloud, and from 
the front door she went back again 
to her dear companion, to let heart 
and hand blend in sympathy and 
comfort. 

One afternoon, the room I entered 
was a little parlour in a modest home 
on one of the side streets. A little 
child let me in, and came running 
back to tell me that her mother 
would be in in a few moments. As I 
lifted the shade to spend the time glanc- 
ing over the evening paper, my eye 
fell upon the opposite wall, and there 
was his picture neatly framed; just 
above in an artistic setting, his little 
poem, "Be Strong." Near by hung 
another small frame, with one of the 
four hundred cards of pressed flowers 

[80] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

sent to the Sunday School children 
from the Holy Land on that last 
trip. Suddenly the walls of that room 
seemed to expand. A vision of scores 
of such scenes was called to mind, 
not only in quiet, unassuming homes 
like this, but also among the wealthy. 
In delicate frame, amid the varied 
costly ornaments of the mantel-piece, 
or in some conspicuous or honoured 
spot upon the wall this same picture 
hangs. Scarcely a home which he knew 
throughout the entire parish in which 
his photograph is not seen ; often up- 
stairs on the little stand near the bed- 
side, or chair of an invalid, or shut-in. 



His relationship to the ministers of Fellow 
the city was close and personal, and ters 
never controlled by denominational 
lines. Recently at a little gathering 

[81] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

of ministers representing many de- 
nominations, a like testimony came 
from three of differing creeds. Of the 
many letters of welcome from fellow 
pastors when they came to Baltimore, 
Dr. Babcock's had been the first re- 
ceived. Similar testimony was ex- 
pressed from the same men as to his 
letters of sympathy. One pastor of 
long years' standing in the city referred 
to a serious personal accident some 
fifteen years before. He said that the 
first of four hundred letters of sym- 
pathy which he received reached 
him from Dr. Babcock, sent by a 
special messenger. This is another 
illustration of the place which the 
word "now" had in his vocabulary. 
In this particular instance it was 
stated that he must have received 
the news of this accident by tele- 

[82] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

phone or by word of mouth, and 
immediately dispatched his note. 

There was a little girl, sick with chicken- 

. , Pox. 

chicken-pox, strange to say, very 
sick. She grew worse each day. The 
doctor said she must see no one. She 
seemed so sad and discouraged. If 
she could only be her own happy little 
self again! Just to laugh once would 
mean that she was getting better, so 
the doctor said. Dr. Babcock never 
asked if he might go upstairs, but 
slipped away from those in the par- 
lour, saying, " I'll be back in a min- 
ute." Into the chamber he stole noise- 
lessly, and looking warningly at the 
girl's mother, softly told the child that 
he had come to tell her a story. He 
"knew a little boy who had the 
chicken-pox, and nobody knew what 

[83] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

was the matter with him. One day, 
the little fellow looked up into his 
mother's face and said, "Mother, I 
know what I've got. I've got the 
chicken-pox ; *cause I found a feather 
in the bed. 555 The little face had 
turned on the hot pillow, and as he 
kissed the little hand good-by, both 
mother and child were really laugh- 
ing. A moment more, and he was on 
the street, hastening on to the next 
number, all of which he knew by 
heart. To this day, that mother will 
tell you how he saved that child's r 
life. 

Cards. The front room was brilliantly 
lighted. Little tables filled both 
rooms. Cards were here and there. 
A few ladies had already gathered. 
Others were coming up the street 

[84] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

steps. All confused the hostess came 
forward and said, "Well, you've 
caught me this time. What do you 
think of this, anyhow?' 5 (Four or 
five such scenes have been related to 
me, but one reply will suffice.) As he 
slipped out, he said earnestly, "I've 
only called to ask how the boy was 
getting along in college." He never 
seemed to lose his sense of appro- 
priate and suggestive help. His open 
words, public and private, were fear- 
less as to all the subtle sins of so- 
ciety, but he never allowed an ill- 
timed word to cross-purpose his in- 
terest and responsibility in a home. 
That mother began to think of her 
boy in college with an awakened 
conscience which took responsibility 
and prayer into account. This new 
line of thought was associated with 

[85] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

that which had grown almost con- 
trolling. The card table, after all, was 
a secondary, not a primary affair. 

But what was the secret of his 
power ? How often the question comes 
to us from strangers, who have heard 
of his magnetism, his drawing and 
holding power, and who cannot ex- 
plain it. As the years go on, and make 
a clearer focus and more accurate per- 
spective possible, the answer seems 
increasingly satisfying, "It was the 
utter sweetness of his spirit, his 
Master's spirit, which the emptying 
of himself of self and selfish desires 
and selfish dominance had made 
possible to possess in double measure. 
He seemed to be entirely possessed 
of a spirit of love to all the world, 
without distinction of class, age, sex, 

[86] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

or color. This combined with a fine 
sensitiveness of perception of an- 
other's view-point gave him power to 
put himself in another's place and to 
do as he would be done by." To this 
definition of good-breeding, Dr. Bab- 
cock certainly lived up in all his 
dealings with men. It was no matter 
of parish expediency, of keeping on 
the right side of his people, of being 
able even to "do them good," that 
elusive and questionable possibility 
which flies before us like a will-o'- 
the-wisp, persuading us to help by 
doing rather than by being. The 
carpenter in the house, the ash-man His in- 
in the alley, the child on the street, ^ uence ' 
even the yellow dog that he passed 
— all were the better for his presence. 
Why? I believe the answer is, there 
was in him the Spirit of Christ, of peace 

[87] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



and good- will, of love, joy, gentleness, 
goodness and the intense desire to 
share his Father's love with his 
Father's children. This made the 
atmosphere in which he lived seem 
cleaner, purer, more holy. 

In this connection, we quote from a 
letter from one church member to an- 
other. This quotation he once printed 
in the weekly calendar. 

For yourself I have many times be- 
sought the Lord. Truly He is able to 
keep what we commit. Perhaps you 
have not really committed everything 
in your heart and life to Him. You 
know the word "commit" means 
"deposit." and that is taking one's 
hands off. We are to reckon ourselves 
dead, and that is our good self as 
well as our bad self. In a word, I do 
believe we are to have done with the 
subjective in our Christian life and 
ever be occupied with Christ who is 

[88] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



our life. This may not seem very 
practicable, but I assure you it is. 
Study about Him; think of Him; let 
the Holy Spirit glorify Him in your 
apprehension, and then He will be 
glorified in your experience. Com- 
munion with Christ is most certainly 
the source of all likeness to Christ. 

Below it he wrote: 

The outward look, not the inward, Reflect- 
leads to health. The upward look, mg - 
not the downward, leads to humility. 
The Christward look, not the self- 
ward, leads to holiness and Heaven. 
"But we all, with unveiled face, re- 
flecting as a mirror the glory of the 
Lord, are transformed into the same 
image from glory to glory, as by the 
Lord— the Spirit." 2 Cor. 3 : 18. 

Although very many instances have Personal 
come to light of that brief but effec- 
tive pastorate in the Brick Church, 
we would recount but one which calls 
attention characteristically to his win- 

[89] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

some yet persistent work for the 
souls of men. A young man of bril- 
liant and striking personality, who 
had been brought up strictly in a 
church of another denomination from 
Dr. Babcock's, was struggling to 
complete his education in New York. 
This Sunday morning on which he 
attended the Brick Church service, 
was the one previous to communion. 

After the announcements, Dr. Bab- 
cock leaned forward, and with most 
earnest evidence of personal feeling, 
urged those who had hesitated here- 
tofore to confess Christ, to do so at 
that time, stating that if there were 
any individuals present, no matter 
of what religious training, who be- 
lieved in Jesus Christ and desired 
to serve Him, he would be glad to 
talk with them after the service. 

[90] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

Then he added: " Young man, do 
not leave this place without letting 
me talk with you, if you think that 
I can help you. I would request all 
friends in the parish to make way for 
strangers and those in need of spir- 
itual help, at the close of the service." 

The young man had for years been 
considering this question, but had 
from time to time postponed the de- 
cision. He decided immediately to 
take the step; but the friend with 
him urged him to walk down town 
with him, and hesitating, the resolve 
was broken, and he went down Fifth 
Avenue with his friend. At every 
street crossing, his conscience 
pricked him, and finally, after pass- 
ing one or two of the hotels, he told 
his friend, that he was going back to 
speak to Dr. Babcock. 

[91] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

As he walked up the aisle, he saw 
a number of people who were still 
waiting to greet the pastor socially, 
but with a peculiar instinct, Dr. Bab- 
cock seemed to catch the eye of this 
young man, and excusing himself to 
all the others, he reached through 
the crowd and beckoned to him, 
"You wanted to see me personally? 
Is it in regard to the invitation I gave 
this morning?" After a few words, 
Dr. Babcock said, "I will call on you 
this week." Although the young man 
tried to make other arrangements, 
he was firm and said, "No, I will see 
you in your room." 

Three times that week Dr. Bab- 
cock went to see that student, up in 
his little room at the top of one of 
the four or five story buildings now 
cut up into roomers' quarters. The 

[92] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

third time he found him, and al- 
though the man had been reluctant 
to let him see the restricted condi- 
tions which his small means could 
alone afford, this was quickly over- 
come, and he spent over an hour in 
that young man's room, until he set- 
tled freely and completely each per- 
sonal difficulty. The open confession 
the following Sunday was decisive 
and sincere. The young man related 
this incident to the pastor of his 
home church in a neighbouring city, 
saying that Dr. Babcock had urged 
him to confess Christ in a church of 
his own denomination unless he felt 
definitely led to do otherwise. 

No greater or more beautiful trib- The Far 

Reach. 

ute has recently been paid to this 
man of God as a city pastor than that 

[93] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

impersonal reference made by Miss 
Mary E. Richmond, formerly en- 
gaged in the charity work of our 
city, in her little book recently pub- 
lished, "The Good Neighbour." 

The last chapter begins by saying, 
" I am forcibly reminded of one who 
was called from this earth some 
years ago but whose ministry in a 
large city church still remains an in- 
spiration to many. His creed and 
mine differed widely and I seldom 
heard him preach, but there was no 
public task with which I was asso- 
ciated that did not show the influence 
of his daily endeavour to apply the 
Gospel of Christ to the life of the 
city in which we both worked. The 
city's great net- work, with its tangles 
here, its gaps there, its complex of 
relations, political, educational, in- 

[94] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



dustrial, social — this huge net and its 
motley contents he saw largely and 
sanely but with an intense compas- 
sion for the spiritually undernour- 
ished that were caught within its 
mesh. 

"Some clergymen who feel this 'call Training 
of the city/ fling themselves un- church. 
selfishly into its life, but dissipate 
their strength by becoming directors 
of many boards, attending many 
meetings and making many ad- 
dresses on a great variety of topics. 
This was not his way. Having in mind 
always that the exercise and develop- 
ment of the members of his own con- 
gregation in the Christian life was his 
highest duty, he set himself the task 
of studying first the needs of the city 
in which they lived then the possi- 
bilities both social and spiritual of 

[95] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

the many agencies created to meet 
these needs; and last, the aptitudes 
and capacities of his people. The 
city was their workshop, and into it 
he fed them freely, associating them 
with every uplifting work that was 
going forward. Some of his men 
visited prisons and became volun- 
teer probation officers in charge of 
individual boys, others founded an 
equitable loan company for the 
poorer sort of borrowers and many 
worked hard in municipal cam- 
paigns. The women of his church 
visited families in distress under the 
best guidance that he was able to 
secure for them, and gave efficient 
aid on hospital committees and in 
children's work. 

The church had no group of char- 
itable buildings, no new charities to 

[96] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 

which it could point with pride; it 
was a city as a whole that bore elo- 
quent witness to the power of his 
preaching. But in however many 
places outside the church boundaries 
his people may have made that 
power felt, all the work that they did 
was religious work; they always so 
regarded it, and their first loyalty 
was always to their church and its 
leader. Sometimes it seemed to me, 
an onlooker, that he played upon 
the community as upon a great organ, 
drawing from it new and inspiring 
spiritual harmonies." 

The Memorial window which com- Memo- 
memorates his love and faithfulness 
in Brown Memorial has this text: 
"Not disobedient unto the Heavenly 
Vision." As we look with John the 

[97] 



FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH 



Seer from desolate Patmos up into 
the mysterious beauty of "The Holy 
City/ 5 we catch the gleam of light 
from the city itself, and as it scintil- 
lates in the sparkling water of the 
River of Life, we see the angels on 
the right lifting up their crowns to 
him that overcometh. 

The beautiful tablet which inscribes 
his memory in the Brick Church, in 
New York, gives us the secret : 

Not slothful in business, fervent in 
spirit, serving the Lord, rejoicing in 
hope, patient in tribulation, contin- 
uing instant in prayer. He preached 
the word with gladness, comforted 
the sorrowful with tender mercy and 
brought a blessing in the name of 
Christ to the hearts of his people 
who remember him ever with grate- 
ful love. 



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